Sarek's Daughters
by Morwen Tindomerel
Summary: Growing up on Vulcan through the eyes of Sarek and Amanda's youngest daughter T'Jess
1. Morning

I am T'Jess, daughter of Sarek of the House of Surak and the Noble Clan Talek-sen-deen. I am also Jessica Grayson-Gould daughter of Marcus Gould and his wife Miranda Grayson. How I came to have these two identities is a curious story.

My father, Sarek of Vulcan, spent many years as an official of our embassy on Earth. While so serving he met a very remarkable young Earth woman named Amanda Grayson. After several years acquaintance he chose her as his bondmate, and she chose not only him but the Vulcan Way for herself and her heirs.

Amanda had a twin sister, Miranda. Her husband was Marcus Gould a xeno-geologist in the service of Planetary Surveys. He often traveled to new worlds to survey them for colonization and his wife went with him. Because such work has its dangers they named Sarek and Amanda guardians of their two daughters should they not return - as one day they did not. My sister Sara was only four standard years old and I but two.

Sarek and Amanda were living on Earth at this time and had the care of us. We became their daughters under Earth law in accordance with the wishes of our birth parents. When the time came for them to return to Vulcan they took us with them and there we were accepted by House and Clan and given our Vulcan names; T'Sar and T'Jess. We met also our new brother and sister, Spock and T'Pelle, who had been left in the Homeplace of Surak in the care of our grandmother. Because T'Sar was the oldest she became First Daughter. T'Pelle who is three months my elder is second in seniority and I am third.

However we do not normally live in the courts assigned to us in the Ancient Homeplace. Father and Mother's work requires us to reside in the city of Shi-Kahr. Our house is quite new, having been built a mere six hundred years before, one of many in the third circle of the city intended for government officials. Both house and enclosure wall are constructed of fused sand, yellowish in color and rough in texture. The gates are of beaten bronze, greenish with age, but there is no gatehouse and no gatekeeper entry is controlled electronically from within.

Modern though it is the house is laid out in the traditional fashion with forecourt, public rooms clustered around an atrium open to the sky and private rooms grouped around an inner courtyard. There is a Hall of Contemplation where our shrines to the House Ancestors and our Clan's tutelary deity are installed, a moderately sized garden and small houses for the accommodation of attendants and guests.

I awoke one wet morning to pre-dawn darkness, the steady drip of rain and a chill draft flowing through my window grill. Seconds later the door to my chamber slid open and my woman said quietly. "Are you awake, little miss?"

"Yes, T'Pei." I sat up, putting back my quilt and sheets as she entered to light the stone lamp on the tall cupboard with the taper she carried.

The silver-gilt flowers sprinkled over the soft green walls of my sleep place glinted in the yellow light, as did the stone inlays of the cupboard. T'Pei picked up a robe laid ready on the bench and held it for me to slip into, then took my toilet box from its place and followed as I led the short way down the passage to the bathroom. This is very long with the bathing slabs shielded by their shoulder high wall at one end, anointing benches in the middle, and cupboards for clothes at the other.

On Vulcan we have shower baths, just a quick rinse after a thorough scrubbing with cleansing salts. We do not use soap. My sisters and I are now old enough to be trusted to bathe ourselves properly. T'Pelle will complete her thirteen seasons at the end of this month, and I in three more, meaning we are both just short of seven standard years old. Our elder sister T'Sar has completed her seventeenth season - that is she is past nine.

The matrons assigned to care for us by our Clan; T'Pei, T'Ping and T'Paan, no longer bathe us but they still help us to anoint ourselves with the oils and creams necessary to protect the skin against Vulcan's fierce sun - even when her face is veiled by clouds. Then we dressed in the school uniforms they had laid out for us. Because it was the Wet season, the high desert winter, our sideless ochre tunics were long sleeved, as was the cream colored bifurcate garment worn beneath and both were woven of warm animal fleece. Once dressed we sat still on our wooden stools as our women did up our hair in the proper style with a fringe on the forehead and long, pendant youth lock falling over the right shoulder. T'Sar's hair is straight and pale yellow like river sand. T'Pelle and I have curly hair - like Mother's - which can be constrained into the disciplined style demanded by tradition only with difficulty. All three of us have blue eyes, also like Mother's.

The traditional Vulcan breakfast is no more than a cup of water, a bit of bread and perhaps a piece of dried fruit taken after one's toilet, but this does not suit the Human metabolism and so it is customary in our family to start the day with a large Terran style meal. We found the inner court darksome and gray with rain pattering softly into the pool and weighing down the heads of the grasses and flowers planted around it, but lamps had been lit in the Room of Gathering and in the dining room lighting our way our way to the kitchen.

This is Mother's room and holds many heirlooms of her family brought from Earth. The walls are painted her favorite peach pink and a large window has been cut in one overlooking the kitchen garden, though the neat rows of vegetables and herbs were still invisible in the predawn murk. Flowering plants, many of Earth origin, stand on the deep sill and braided rugs lie on the brown tile floor. Our everyday dishes and utensils are stored in a wood and glass 'china cabinet' which belonged to Mother's Grandmother. The square table in the middle of the floor and the six chairs around it were also from Great-grandmother Stemple.

Mother stood at the cooking surface, frying egg product and protein sausage in brass bottomed pans also brought from Earth. Father was setting the table, normally a most improper thing for him to do but as our breakfast is an Earth style meal we follow Human etiquette. The dishes were gold edged and painted with strange looking flowers. The eating utensils were also Terran; spoons, forks and knives plated with silver. And the air was full of the earthly smells of frying and baking.

"T'Sar, take the biscuits out of the oven." Mother said as we entered. "T'Pelle, stir the oatmeal. T'Jess, put the juice and milk on the table."

We hurried to obey. The table was laid and Mother spooning eggs and sausage onto serving dishes when Brother came in.

Father gave him a look of disapproval. "You are late my son."

"No he isn't," Mother contradicted, "the food isn't on the table yet."

Father nodded acceptance. "I stand corrected. I apologize my son."

"The Father cannot give offense to the Son." Brother said formally, then; "Good morning, Father. Good morning, Mother. Good morning, Sisters." That is Earth etiquette.

"Good morning, Spock, and sit down all of you." said Mother.

She is an extremely skilled cook, indeed she teaches that art as well as linguistics at the Science Academy. The breakfast menu varies from day to day, quite randomly, depending on 'what I feel like making' as Mother says. This too is in accordance with Human practice of the art. Vulcan cookery is more regulated. However there is always oatmeal for Father who developed a fondness for it while living on Earth. Spock likes it too. T'Sar, T'Pelle and I do not.

Mother calls breakfast our 'family time' because none of the other members of the household are present as they are at midday and evening meals. On Earth 'family' means only kin not servitors, vassals or other dependents. Even after her many years on Vulcan Mother still regards such people as 'not-family' but of course we children have been taught otherwise.

"Spock," said Mother, loading his plate with eggs, sausage and a biscuit, "why did I have to learn from Master Sydat that you have been chosen to represent your school in this year's science competition?"

Spock looked discomfited but Father beamed, (I know, Vulcans aren't supposed to show emotion but we do - we just pretend we don't) "Is that indeed so? Our House is honored. You have done well, Son."

Spock looked even less comfortable, Mother annoyed. "My point, Sarek, is Spock should have told us!"

Father did not agree. "Spock is right to cultivate modesty," he said, "A good Vulcan bears his honors quietly, he does not make boast of them."

"Telling his mother is not boasting!"

"Spock has done well, my wife." Father said firmly. "He has behaved as a true Vulcan should."

Mother rolled her eyes upward to show what she thought of that! We girls had to hide our smiles. Spock is always a model of perfect Vulcan behavior - and so extremely tiresome to live with. No doubt he would win the prize - he usually does - to the annoyance of his age group. We girls have told him many times that it would be both logical and tactful to occasionally allow somebody else to excel but he won't see it. No wonder he has no friends. Father doesn't seem to notice, but Mother does and it concerns her. We girls have never been able to make up our minds whether Spock cares - but probably not since he does nothing to mend the situation.

Our school is a long walk across the city center from our house. The first half of our way lies along with Father's to his offices in the capitol complex so we started out together, escorted by his aides Spelek and Talat. The rain had stopped and a rosy-orange light suffused the cloud cover to the east. We had all donned light cloaks against the brisk, chill breeze blowing from the north-east.

"Touching on the unfortunate event yesterday -" Father began.

"It is illogical to dwell on the past." T'Sar said primly.

Father didn't quite smile. "That is true. However errors must be acknowledged."

"It has been!" T'Pelle said with a note of exasperation in her voice. "We have apologized most humbly to Master Solel."

"And accepted nine demerits apiece in punishment." I added.

"Neither apology nor punishment would have been necessary had you asked permission before diverting the water course." Father pointed out.

"We were assigned the cultivation of the T'Oe Pa plants," T'Sar said almost sharply, "it was logical for us to assume we had permission to do whatever we deemed necessary to further their growth."

"It was also logical to assume that water channeled from the irrigation system was needed elsewhere." said Father.

"We were perhaps somewhat lacking in foresight." T'Sar conceded.

"We understand we should have considered all possible consequences before acting." I added.

"We were too focused on our own task to the exclusion of the larger pattern." T'Pelle agreed.

"We most sincerely regret the school's flower garden suffered." said T'Sar.

"It is very fortunate that Mother has plants to replace the ones that died." said T'Pelle.

"Your Mother is a skilled gardener." said Father. "However your misadventure has seriously disrupted her plans. Please show more foresight and consideration in the future."

"We will." T'Sar promised on behalf of us all.

"Thank you for not discussing this in front of Spock." added T'Pelle. I nodded vehement agreement.

Father didn't quite smile again. "It is proper for an elder brother to concern himself with the behavior of his younger siblings, however Spock is not always as tolerant of honest error as is desirable."

To put it mildly, Spock wants his sisters to be as perfect as he is. We follow the proprieties carefully but random factors do not always operate in our favor - that is our luck is sometimes very bad.

Certainly it was not our fault when Miyo-Ba, our Sehlat cub, chose to seek refuge from her monthly bath under Mother's tea table while she was entertaining. And we would not have chosen that day to take the piano apart had anybody thought to tell us a musical was planned for that evening. Nor would we have planted Go-Fei traps in Mother's strawberry patch, to catch the neighbor boys who were stealing the fruit had we known Respected T'Aishi intended to collect the strawberries to prevent further theft.

We most sincerely regretted the broken china, the social embarrassment and T'Aishi's injured hands but Father, Mother and our teachers agree that originality of mind and initiative are desirable traits - even if they sometimes lead to unfortunate results.

Spock is never original. He is a perfect pattern of the model Vulcan son which makes him dull. He excels at all he attempts outshining his age mates which makes him unpopular. Errors or no we girls are neither dull nor disliked. Our state is definitely to be preferred.


	2. School

As this conversation ended we three girls, Father and his two aides emerged from the labyrinth of grassy pedestrian ways running between the walled compounds of our residential neighborhood to join numerous other walkers on the verges of the vehicular road that links the temple of Surak in the outer park to the heart of Shih-Kahr.

As we walked the sun rose, struggling to break through the gray walls of the clouds but succeeding only in tingeing them a delicate orange. She was her own diameter above the horizon by the time our party reached the city center. We walked along the path beneath the ancient walls of the citadel, now the seat of our planetary government. They rose above us in a smooth white slope from the rain dimpled waters of a wide moat dotted here and there with clumps of floating lilies. Usually it is a pretty sight but today moat and walls were drear, reflected the gray clouds rather than brilliant sunlight. Father and his aids left us to cross the bridge of the western gate to their offices in the Palace of Greetings, now the secretariat for interplanetary affairs.

We three girls continued across the great Square of Assembly beyond the walls. Normally we stop for a brief rest beneath the tree marking the Chancellor's station but today the drizzle had turned to genuine rain so we hurried on into the tangle of pedestrian paths lined with commercial and apartment buildings on the other side of the square taking the winding way that led eventually to our school.

The T'el Sherat school for Maidens of Gentle Birth is surrounded by a grassy berm surmounted by a densely woven thorn-tree hedge. This encloses perhaps a hectare of ground landscaped into a flower garden, a vegetable garden and a rock garden in the midst of which stands the school itself, two long low buildings shaded with Tek Tek trees and facing each other across an open court.

In better weather we often had our classes outdoors, in courtyard or gardens, but today we joined the other pupils hurrying inside where it was dry. The glass latticed doors fronting the long gallery were shut tight against the inclement weather and we added our rain cloaks to those already dripping on the pegs before slipping into our classroom - we are all three in the same form - and taking our places with the other pupils behind the low desks set in tidy rows on the polished stone floor.

Instructor T'Sia entered from her office behind the classroom and mounted the low dais with her desk and chair. "Knowledge is the basis of all virtue." she said, as she does every morning.

"We come to learn." we answered in muted chorus. She sat. We pulled out the mats tucked beneath our desks and folded ourselves down upon them activating the padd device before us. The day's work began. It took place in total silence except for the click of keys and an occasional sigh. Each padd is programmed with the pupil's assigned learning tasks monitored by the instructor's computer. Advice, admonitions and sometimes praise appear in the teacher's block at the upper right of the screen. Only rarely is it necessary for T'Sia to leave her seat and correct a pupil's work with her own hands. When this happens it is extremely humiliating for the student. It has never happened to T'Sar, T'Pelle or I - despite our Human ancestry. Excellence is a matter of effort and application not biology - just as Father says.

Mathematics are our primary study, for it is the basis of all logic and reason. Today my tasks included designing mathematical models for three dimensional problems; quadratic equations to solve and tables of natural logarithms to memorize. Our other study is Vulcan culture and history, as I prefer those subjects to mathematics I always save those readings and essays for last.

The hollow boom of a brazen gong marked the end of the first session. We rose respectfully as Instructor T'Sia departed then filed out into the gallery, on our way to the tearoom for our mid-morning refreshment. My sisters and I were joined by T'Prang and the twins, T'Psing and T'Ptim, who are our special friends. We have many others - unlike Spock.

I have heard that Brother had a very difficult time when he was our age, that the other boys tormented and insulted him for his Human blood. We, his sisters, have not been so troubled. Perhaps it is because our instructors keep better discipline than at Spock's school. Perhaps it is because girls are naturally more courteous and decorous than boys. Or perhaps it has something to do with the unfortunate incident that took place on our very first day at T'el Sherat three years ago.

I remember we were standing among the stone drum seats set in a circle beneath the spreading branches of a H'Pual tree waiting for the instructor to arrive when one of the girls said something uncomplimentary about our Terran heritage. I no longer recall exactly what she said, just that the word 'Earther' was repeated more than once. She did not finish her sentence, T'Sar marched over and hit her hard in the belly. All the girls gasped, two started forward; I tripped one and T'Pelle grabbed the other by the hair and pulled until she shrieked. It was at this moment the instructor, T'Pien, arrived. All six of us were punished for violence in speech and deed - but the word 'Earther' was never again spoken in my hearing, or T'Sar's or T'Pelle's. Violence may not be a good way of resolving conflicts but in this case it proved a decisive one.

Today they served M'Alakh tea, hot and bitter, to guard against chills and warm fruit rolls to go with it. Vulcan fruits are very sour. Mother cannot eat them, they make her mouth pucker, but T'Sar and I can. We eat everything other Vulcans do for tastes in food are a matter of acclimation rather than biology.

No sooner had we seated ourselves around one of the low tea tables dotting the refreshment hall then we were approached by an instructor's aide, so designated by her red sash. She placed a handful of data chips in front of T'Sar. "One bring the lessons prepared for the time you will be absent."

"This one thanks the honored instructors for their graciousness, on her own behalf and her sisters'." T'Sar replied. The aide nodded and left.

"One does not wish to offend," said T'Prang formally, "but her father has said often to her that the feudal displays associated with noble marriages are illogical."

"The teachings of an elder cannot give offense." T'Sar said as formally, then wrinkled her nose. "Besides we heard it all before when I married!" as indeed we had.

"The modernist views of the honored professor Sakas are well known to all." added T'Pelle. T'Prang's father is a teacher of social logic at the Academy.

"Our grandmother says it is good for the old ways to be remembered." said T'Ptim.

"Remembered yes, it is their re-enactment Father objects to." T'Prang answered her.

"And child marriages and child betrothals." remembered T'Psing.

T'Ptim frowned. They had argued this point before. "We are twins." she said, yet again. "It was logical for our parents to betroth us to the twin sons of Sharrn of the House of Shan. Now our bond and theirs need not be torn apart when it is time to mate."

"And our parents chose to bondmate us as children to show their devotion and ours to the Vulcan Way." said T'Pelle.

"Father argues that when children are grown they may find they are not compatible meaning either families will be shamed by broken oaths or a husband and wife must live in discontent." T'Prang answered then directed her words to my sisters and me: "Your own grandmother broke her betrothal. And what about Spock and T'Pring?"

It was a good point. T'Pelle's bondmating with Kalon, grandson of our grandmother's rejected betrothed, was meant to repair that old breach between our Houses. As for Spock and his bondmate T'Pring - when we were small my sisters and I hadn't realized there was anything wrong between them but after T'Sar's marriage two years ago it became very clear to us all that something had gone awry with Brother's bonding.

Though Senok, T'Sar's husband, lives on Vulcan's sister planet T'Khut the two of them communicate daily by cybernet and she was looking forward eagerly to seeing him when he and his grandmother, our aunt T'Pai, came to attend T'Pelle's wedding. Spock and his wife live in the same city but see each other rarely. And when T'Pring does come to visit she spends most of her time with us, his sisters, not her bondmate. It was painfully clear - to us - that they were ill-suited but the Elders showed no concern.

T'Pelle bit her lip. I knew she worried that she would find Kalon as uncongenial as T'Pring found Spock. After all Grandmother had reject his grandfather!

"Didn't the Elders chose Senok for T'Sar as well as T'Pring for Spock?" I reminded my sister. "Surely the chances are at least even that they have done well in choosing Kalon for you."

"I hope so." said T'Pelle, but I could see she was not reassured.

I turned to T'Prang, allowing a note of irritation to tinge my voice as I said. "It would be better not to disturb my sister's heart as she has no choice but to obey the Elders of our House and Clan!"

T'Sar nodded. "T'Jess is right. Debates of custom and change are not the concern of children."

"That is true." T'Prang agreed.

The gong sounded again, marking the end of the refreshment interval and we went into the gallery to don our now dry rain cloaks for our next session would be in the training hall in the building opposite and the covered but un-walled gallery connecting the two offered little protection against the driving rain.

The training hall is the same size and shape as the refreshment hall with six polished, unpainted wooden pillars supporting the high coffered ceiling. The dim gray light leaking through the stone grilled windows beneath the eaves was supplemented by wall lamps and the tiled floor covered with a thick layer of matting. Instructor T'Praed stood waiting in the yellow-orange light flanked by her aides, including Brother's intended T'Pring.

She is thin and wiry, excelling at sport and dance, but sallow of complexion and plain of face with snub nose, pointed chin and drooping mouth. I don't know why Spock doesn't like her, not only is T'Pring clever and accomplished but she is an eminently suitable match. Her House of Sidak is older than ours, though less distinguished by public honors, and she belongs to the same noble clan, the Talek-sen-deen, as we do which should count for a great deal more with Brother then her lack of beauty. It is very puzzling.

We shed our over-tunics and took our places on the mats in six rows of seven. At T'Praed's command we began our exercises with the le- matya form, which involves a great deal of bending and stretching. The instructor and her aides circulated among us correcting errors of posture and footing with long sticks. T'Sar, T'Pelle and I did not require correction. We passed to the sehlat form, which requires much crouching and stomping, then ran through the toshi-ya, okonoh and kah forms.

Having completed our exercises we pupils sat on the mats, resting, while T'Praed and her aides rigged the targets for Tae-Konn. These are thick rolls of matting suspended at various heights between the columns of the hall. At the instructor's signal we divided into four groups, each supervised by an aide, and began practice.

Tae-Konn is a female fighting style involving high kicks and leaps. Aim and focus are very important as is balance. T'Sar excels at this art. T'Pelle and I are less skilled, maybe because we are younger. We were all tired and somewhat breathless by the time the gong sounded for the end of session.

We students promptly assumed meditation posture on the mats as our instructor and her aides cleared away the targets and dimmed the lights. We sat in the watery twilight, breathing and being, not thinking, until the final gong of the day commanded us to resume our outer clothing and prepare to go home.

It was midday. The sky was a dense and roiling purple. Rain came down not in buckets but sheets. Naturally nobody was expected to walk home in this. Enclosed chairs, slung between aki-kah, powerful, flightless two legged ornithoids, queued up beneath the eaves allowing us to get into them without getting soaked. T'Sar and T'Pelle took one chair. I shared mine with T'Pring who was to go home with us today to help in the endless sewing of T'Pelle's trousseau.

"T'Prang was talking against child marriages again." I observed after T'Pring had programmed the directions to our home into the electronic driver.

"T'Prang would do well to hold her peace." my sister-by-marriage answered.

"She repeats the teachings of her father." I said.

"The debates of scholars are not our concern." said T'Pring correctly.

Bluntly and none to courteously I asked: "Why do you and Spock not like one another?"

She was not offended. Her brow crinkled in thought then she shook her head. "I do not know. He is in every way suitable and admirable. I should like him - but I do not." a forlorn note entered her usually controlled voice. "I wish that I did."

"I wish you did too." I answered, sighed. "Spock has no friends, not even his own bondmate."

T'Pring squared her shoulders. "No doubt we will feel differently after sexual awakening. Then we will need each other. That will be enough.

That seemed logical. I hoped it would be so.


	3. Midday

Wind and rain buffeted the sides of our carrying chair. The storm was getting worse. "Did you hear thunder?" I asked T'Pring nervously. She shook her head but her shoulders were tense.

The walls of our forecourt cut the wind, but the rain still pounded down and the branches of the tek-tek trees groaned as they swayed. Siya, Father's factotum, was waiting at the doorway, heavily cloaked, to help us from our chairs and to lead the aki-kah around the corner to a shed, it would have been inhumane to turn out even those hardy birds in such extreme weather.

The lamps had been lit in the atrium, light reflecting off the polished granite walls. The big, open room was chilly and damp, full of gusty drafts rippling the ancestral banners in their niches. Rain and runoff poured through the square hole in the ceiling, splashing into the pool beneath till it foamed. We made a wide circle around it and T'Sar slid open a panel of the painted silk screens dividing the room of gathering from the atrium.

The lamps had been lit here too, and coals glowed red in a two level brazier banishing the chill.

Mother was there, waiting for us, along with Spock's pedagogue and Respected T'Aishi. Mother sprang from her chair, a deeply cushioned Terran antique, and offered her palms first to T'Pring. "Welcome daughter, please call your birth parents and inform them you have arrived safely."

T'Pring went obediently to the communications/computer set and Mother touched hands with T'Sar. "A stage two weather emergency has been declared." she explained. "All citizens have been requested to take shelter." she moved on to T'Pelle and then to me, her eyes were worried. "I hope Father and Brother are able to get home."

"They will notify us if they cannot." Master Sinat, Brother's pedagogue, said in his dry old voice. "Both are too logical to take unnecessary chances."

Well, maybe Father was...but Spock's logic was decidedly peccable though naturally none of us said so. A loud crack of thunder right overhead made us all start, even Sinat. Mother wrung her hands. Then we heard Father and Brother's voices in the atrium and she all but ran to the screens but regained control of herself as soon as she saw husband and son safe.

She offered palms to Spock before touching fingers with Father with perfect composure. "A warning has been issued." she said passionlessly. "I was growing concerned."

"I was concerned as well." Father answered, eyes warm. "I left the office early, requisitioning a closed car. I went first to T'el Sherat but learned the pupils had already been sent home. I then drove to S'chn Hwa to pick up Spock." Thunder cracked and rolled overhead, again all jumped, startle responses to external stimuli are almost impossible to master. "Fortunately we are now safe at home." Father said. "Let us go in, out of this cold."

"Where is Miyo-ba, please?" I asked T'Aishi as she led us three girls and our guest T'Pring down the shuttered gallery to our quarters. Our sehlat cub is terrified of storms.

A hint of amusement touched our preceptress' stern face. "T'Pai and T'Paan put her in her den when the rains grew heavy."

I suppressed a sigh of relief. Seventy-five kilograms of frantic sehlat constitute a serious threat to household furnishings and even house structure. Miyo-ba's den is a walled off section of a store-room off the day nursery. My sisters and I went at once to check on our pet, peering through the slot in the large door. Small, unhappy green eyes looked back at us from the darkness.

T'Pelle reached an arm through to stroke the cub's soft fur crooning. "Poor, Baba-kum. Poor Baba-kum."

"Baba-kum is safe," I added, wedging my hand in next to T'Pelle's, "Sisters will take good care of their good little cub."

"Make room." T'Sar ordered and T'Pelle withdrew her hand reluctantly. "Miyo-ba is a good sehlat, a sweet sehlat, nothing will harm her." T'Sar continued rubbing our unhappy pet's muzzle.

"Enough." said T'Ping from the doorway. "The creature is secure where she is and you must bathe and dress for the midday meal."

T'Pring, whose own woman, T'Paath, had come over earlier and was waiting for her, joined us in making our afternoon toilet which is rather more elaborate then the morning one. We showered again then our women redressed our hair, refreshed the powder on our faces and added the cosmetics necessary to a formal appearance; tint for the lips, paint to outline the eyes and brows and shade the lids. T'Sar, T'Pelle and I dressed for the midday meal, all alike as is the custom for sisters, in tunic and trousers of peach pink silk beneath a pinkish-purple robe lined in white with a white sash tied in a triple knot falling to our feet and a quilted blue vest - matching the color of our eyes - over all. T'Pring wore much the same but in her preferred colors of white and yellow and scarlet.

A fire burned on the tea hearth and the lamps were lit in the long dining room, their mellow light flickering over the dull red and gold of the small lacquered tables, high backed chairs and backless stools. The warm colors of the of landscape reliefs, copied from a famous set in Shi-Kahr castle, glowed against the dark granite of the side walls.

Father and Mother were seated at their table at the head of the hall, Spock alone at a table just below theirs. T'Pring went to join him, seating herself on the stool opposite. T'Sar had a table to herself, though it was set with a second cover for her absent husband. T'Pelle and I shared a third. Just below us Sinat and T'Aishi sat in high backed chairs at their separate tables. Below them, nearest the serving counter, were floor tables and cushions for our retainers.

Thunder roared again and the dishes rattled faintly on the tray T'Iri, Mother's woman, presented to her. She served first Father, then herself. T'Paath performed the same service for T'Pring and she gravely filled Spock's dishes and her own. T'Paan served T'Sar who helped her absent husband before herself, and T'Ping served T'Pelle and me. Siya filled Master Sinat's dishes and T'Pei served Respected T'Aishi before retiring to their own tables.

Mother intoned a short prayer to T'Paah, tutelary deity of our clan, dropped a pinch of meal into the firepot in the middle of her table as a symbolic offering and we all picked up our tongs and began to eat. There were spiced dumplings and s'al'ta sauce to 'bring the appetite' but I could scarcely swallow them, my stomach roiling with every boom of thunder. We were perfectly safe, however severe the weather became, it was illogical to be afraid - but I was. And so were T'Sar and T'Pelle.

Father and Mother, Sinat and T'Aishi were eating in their usual measured way but I knew they were setting us an example of control under stress and no happier than we girls were. Spock was eating practically nothing and I wondered a little maliciously whether it was the storm or T'Pring's presence that was disturbing him. She ate dutifully looking sulkier than her wont, as she usually did around Spock.

T'Sar on the other hand had a slightly dreamy look in her eyes as she tried to pretend Senok was sitting opposite her as she very much wished he was. Far away on T'Khut he was - or would soon be - also eating at a table with two covers to remind him of his wife on Vulcan.

Thunder rolled but this time it had a muffled, hollow sound. All looked up, we knew what that meant - the city shields had been activated indicating the weather had turned very dangerous indeed. T'Pring bit her lip, then recovered herself with an effort. Her family lived on a modest estate outside the city limits and so were exposed to the full force of the storm.

Father put aside the appetizer and uncovered the main dish; tikh - a kind of grain meal - fried with sour roots and ping-ping, a fat burrowing grub. Vulcan vegetarianism permits the ingestion of animal life beneath the level of cerebration such as insects and fish. He picked up his spoon, cleared his throat and said, "Logically the storm cannot maintain such violence for long."

"The manor house of In-Yar is ancient and has withstood many storms." Spock observed, showing more sensitivity than I, his sister, would have given him credit for.

T'Pring rewarded him with a grateful look before lowering her eyes demurely. "That is so. But I fear our garden will suffer."

"And ours." said Mother. "My poor roses!" she and T'Pring continued discussing gardening, a common interest of theirs. Father listened. Spock went back to thinking his own thoughts.

I leaned over the table to whisper to T'Pelle; "If only Spock liked his betrothed as much as his father and mother do!"

"And his sisters." she whispered back. We do like T'Pring. She is clever and very witty if not always kind. There's nothing wrong with T'Pring - nor with Spock either really. Certainly they want to like each other, being bonded, it is very strange that they don't.

The storm roared on overhead, rain pounding down on the tiled roofs making general conversation impossible without improperly raising one's voice thus we confined ourselves to a few polite comments to our immediate neighbors. Midday meals in our family are not normally so uncommunicative though in some houses silence is the rule and in others meals are accompanied by music or readings from the classics.

We consumed a third dish of fried filets of sandfish and followed it with bitter green Sh'rael tea and crisp, salted t'oe'pa wafers. Then we girls then made our bows to the elders and taking T'Pring with us returned to our quarters for the midday rest.

T'Sar, T'Pelle and I wanted to have another look at Miyo-ba but T'Paan wouldn't allow it. "If the beast has settled you will stir her up again. If she has not you will keep her from settling. Leave her be!"

"Our father was right, the storm is decreasing in violence." T'Pring offered. "Secure in her den your pet has probably fallen asleep."

I certainly hoped so. T'Pring and her woman T'Paath were to take their rest on the day nursery divan, we three sisters and our attendants returned to our sleeping rooms. I found the lamp lit in mine and a small, ceramic firepot set near the bed to take the chill off.

T'Pei sprinkled some grains of Ah-tou incense on the red glowing coals filling the room with a soothing scent however the effect was militated by another roll of thunder.

"How can anyone sleep with all this noise?" I wondered.

"Lay your body down and compose your mind and you will sleep, little miss." T'Pei answered, then ruefully. "It is strange is it not that we should fear storms? It is not logical."

"It is an atavism - or so the books say." I answered. "Such primitive instincts are hard to master."

"Very true. But we must try." T'Pei helped me take off my outer robe and folded it neatly on the bench. I lay down and she spread a soft day quilt over me before unrolling her own sleeping mat and composing herself upon it.

"Sleep well, little miss." she said.

"You too, T'Pei." I answered.

I inhaled the sweet ah-tou scent and regulated my breathing in a standard relaxation exercise, thunder sounded making my heart jump. I was angry with myself, I would not give in to my primitive nature. I was a daughter of the House of Surak and had enjoyed the advantage of the best training. I could and would master these atavistic instincts!

I sank my awareness deeper, my heart was beating too quickly, the blood racing in my veins, with an effort that was no effort I slowed it to a more measured rate. Tensed muscles relaxed, breaths came deep and regular. Thunder sounded but body and mind no longer responded to the stimulus.

Images flitted across the stillness of my mind; T'Prang repeating the teachings of her father; the texts I had studied that day; T'Pring and Spock at table, eyes on their plates ignoring each other; Tae-Konn moves; then I fell asleep.


End file.
